Friday, November 13, 2009

Bringing Piney Creek back....

Thinking that I want to bring back a story that I worked on a while back on the utahvarminters site. It's been on hold for a long time, but I think it's time to fire up the old thing and give it life, or unlife.... whichever the case may be.

Chapter 1

“The Leica is reading 822 yards to the bottom of left mound.” Andrew said as he carefully adjusted the short tripod the laser range finder was attached to. He moved from the range finder to another tripod that had a large spotting scope mounted to it. Andrew looked through the scope and focused his attention on a small mound of dirt in the distance.

A small creature appeared on the mound and stood erect. “Alright, I’ve got one on the mound. Let her rip any time that you’re ready.” Andrew said to the man sitting next to him at the table.

Dave slowly moved the large shooting vice that his rifle rested in, adjusting it to bring the muzzle of his rifle in line with the tiny mound of dirt in the distance. He quickly consulted a small piece of paper, looking up the correct number of clicks of elevation he needed to adjust his scope to bring his point of impact up high enough to reach the small creature standing on the mound. He slowly turned the elevation knob and carefully counted the appropriate number of clicks. He then dropped behind the scope and brought the crosshairs to rest just below the top of the tiny outline of the small creature on the distant mound. He slowly applied pressure to the trigger of the rifle. The sear released and the rifle sent a 55-grain bullet speeding from the muzzle at over 3700 feet per second. In just over a second, the fragile bullet had crossed the meadow and caught the unsuspecting prairie dog just under the ribcage, sending a crimson spray of blood and tissue into the air. What was left of the prairie dog tumbled back into the hole it had come out of only moments before.

“Score! Well, it looks like you held out until the last minute, but you finally earned that 800 yard patch you’re been wanting.” Andrew said loudly as he slapped Dave on the back.

“Yup, it sure does.” Dave said as he came up from the rifle and flicked the bolt open, ejecting the spent casing onto the table.

Dave glanced into the sky and gazed at the dark gray clouds in the distance. “We better get a move on before this storm blows in. You know how bad the muck gets out here once this all gets wet and in the dark it ain’t gonna be fun.” David said with a grimace. He was at the end of his annual spring prairie dog hunting trip and the two weeks went by much too fast. The two men had spent the last two weeks camping and living out in some of the more remote parts of Wyoming, searching out and hunting some of the best prairie dog towns in the west. The areas that the men hunted were so remote that their only contact with the outside world was one AM radio station, but it was a talk radio station run by the state college and the two men didn’t quite agree with the extremely left-wing, liberal topics and opinions of the talk show hosts and their so called ‘educated’ guests.

The two men quickly walked out to the small mound and took a few photographs to record the new personal record that Dave had set. They then walked back to the tables and other equipment they had setup earlier in the day and started packing it all into Dave’s large SUV. After they packed all of the gear, they climbed into the front seats and started off on the long, dusty journey back to the cabin and then back to civilization. It almost felt good to be heading back to a nice warm shower, a soft bed and some relaxing time spent in front of the television watching a game--almost!